


When I Don't Know What's Good For Me

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gingerbatch, Harper's Bazaar, Leatherbatch, Smut, cumbersmut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the My Cultural Life interview with Harper's Bazaar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Don't Know What's Good For Me

**Author's Note:**

> For L and L because we all love a bit of Leatherbatch!
> 
> I know these answers are in the wrong order but it's my fic, so there!

...When I don't know what's good for me...

I waited for them to finish. The lights, the set, the stools and chairs, the endless people hanging around. I'd watched them, photographer snapping, makeup artist touching and re-touching his face. Stylists and hairstylists fiddling with him every five minutes, trying to make his ginger curls go this way, or that way. 

...The magic hours when light changes...

The light was fading now, shadows falling onto the whitewashed wall from the tall windows, turning the red bricks a shade of deep brown. He was sitting on the stool, the huge cowl neck of his sweater gathering at his neck, leather jacket hanging sexily off his shoulders. Legs outstretched, fiddling with his car keys in his hands. I knew he couldn't keep still and I loved watching him squirm when he was interviewed. It wasn't really a nervous thing; more that he couldn't keep a hold of his energy and it found its way out somehow. He was always like it. Only our most intimate moments served to still him, making him focus in a way he never did when talking to the press, even though I knew he really tried.

...Ode to a Nightingale...

She was asking him quick-fire questions. The kind where you had two choices and had to make a decision. I knew he would struggle with it so we had discussed it before the shoot. He hated being asked about his favourites and I knew why. One minute he had two favourites, the next he had ten. Ask him in a week's time and it would be ten different things. But this was only two choices. Even harder, he'd moaned. But I knew he could make it up. He could always find something to say. And he would hate not being able to talk properly, to explain his choices, and we would have to go over it again later so he could explain it to me.

...Natural wonders and logical complexities...

Still, it was good exposure and he looked stunning. I knew I shouldn't think it, but he did, and people would enjoy it.

He kept touching his mouth. He would do it with me all the time, and he knew how much it turned me on. I peeked out from where I had been hiding. I knew by now how to make myself invisible at these things, but he knew I was there and he let me know every so often, just with a hand to his mouth or a palm rubbing gently across his thigh. 

...Awwwww... Sex!

I couldn't stop myself from grinning as the question caught him out and he let his lisp tumble out, giggling like a small boy as he said a naughty word. He'd said far worse to me, but that was with no cameras, no interviewers, no-one politely smiling and pretending to laugh along. Or maybe they weren't pretending. Maybe his charm had worked so quickly he had cast his spell over them all already. I'd seen it happen before...

...Grace Kelly... Lennon... Sorry Paul...

Finally it was over and I could have him back. They milled around, packing things up and fussing over him. I was as invisible as ever, partly because I wanted to be, partly because they had no interest in me. I sat and waited again as they waved him their goodbyes and he assured them he had found it a pleasure and he would look forward to reading the draft article, seeing the video clip. I smiled as the last of them left, and the cold studio was suddenly silent.

He stood, hands in his pockets, and looked coyly at me from the wall. The fading light was falling onto his hair making it glow, and I stood slowly, approaching him with upturned palms and an increasing pulse.

"Did that go ok, do you think?" he whispered to me as he took my hands in his and pressed them to his chest. The leather was soft under my fingers, the fabric of his sweater was warm, and I could feel his heart beating, slow and steady.

I nodded. We would talk about this later, I knew it. Right now I needed to feel his lips again. They were pink and swollen from smiling, talking and because he just couldn't stop fingering them. I stood on tiptoes to reach up to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, pausing just long enough to take a deep breath and inhale his wonderful scent.

Pulling away, my teasing had the desired effect and he hooked his hand around the small of my back, bringing me in towards him. I took a few steps with him and we were pressed up to the wall, him holding me in place by my hips. Crushing my lips with his, I saw his eyes wide open as I closed mine, as he devoured my mouth hungrily, like it had been months since we had done this and not hours. 

I moved my hips, swinging sideways in just small fractions, enjoying the feeling of his growing erection under his jeans. He groaned into my mouth and pulled me even tighter in to his crotch, bucking his own hips to mine. 

I reached up and tangled my hands into his curls, pulling slightly as I did because I knew it would drive him on further. He moaned and licked at my bottom lip, running his tongue masterfully along, where he knew I was sensitive, fucking his hardness at me now. It was driving me wild with desire and I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.

I frantically fought to undo his belt buckle and his jeans, as he did mine. I looked up at him and we both stopped for a split second. I stared into his blue-green eyes and they were glowing bright; I could see myself in them. He blinked and licked his lips and I leaned up to kiss him again, bruising us both with my intense need for him.

He took me by my waist and spun us round so that I had my back to the white wall now. Working quickly he pulled down my jeans, all the way to the floor, and hastily placed a hand between my legs. He groaned again when he flicked a finger up into me and I sighed, out of frustration. His lips met mine again and I felt a little helpless as his mouth covered mine and his hand worked on me. 

I felt him release me and I looked down to see him take himself in the same hand, running it across his cock, making himself wet and ready. I lifted my leg up and wrapped it around his hip, giving him access and helping him guide his hard cock into me slowly. 

Once inside, he waited a second, then lifted my other leg so he was holding me up, supporting me and filling me all at once. His thrusts started gently, his eyes shining and his lips burning hot against mine. Picking up speed, though, it became less tender and more intense, as he fucked me against the white-washed wall and I began to cry out, panting his name over and over.

Letting me alter the angle, he continued to grind into me, rolling his hips to fill me with his cock and bringing me close to my orgasm. 

Screaming his name, I came, shattering around him, barely aware of our surroundings, the light from the windows becoming two fuzzy blobs against the darkness of the bricks. I cried into the leather on his shoulders, feeling every muscle in his body tense and release as he came inside me, panting and groaning my name in reply. I breathed in the scent of his neck, his hair, the smell of the leather against his skin and I knew that once we had talked through the interview, we would do this again and I would be screaming once more.


End file.
